Purpose
by GirlNextDoor228
Summary: Minion reflects about his true purpose. Short friendship fic!


A/N: Just a short little ficlet about Minion and his brotherly/motherly/fatherly/friendly relationship with his Boss ^_^

Hope you enjoy it 3

* * *

><p>One could say a Super Villain's assistant had little-to-no proper life outside of, well – <em>assisting<em> said Super Villain in whatever task he was needed to perform. It was the expected from someone dedicated to execute Evil plans, to serve his Master unconditionally; a poorly-remunerated profession with little recognition whatsoever, and a scrawny place in his Boss's shadow.

Well, that could indeed be the case with a fish whose name was no other than Minion. But ironically enough, it wasn't.

The alien fish had many occupations he actually enjoyed performing other than following his Master's orders, especially since the bigheaded blue alien spent a considerate amount of time locked away in prison – which gave his henchman a lot of time to enjoy life's mundane activities.

There was one object Minion was particularly fond of - a well-lit little box that went by the name of television. Oh, the nights he would spend in front of said device while taking care of Sir's laundry, a toothy grin shining through his round little features as the eerie lights reflected on his transparent dome.

And he would laugh at Ellen DeGeneres, learn from _Top Chefs_, sob with Oprah, grin amusedly at _What not To Wear_, and sometimes even watch wildlife shows just out of pure curiosity. Romantic comedies – or rather, movies that didn't involve giant robots creating havoc in the streets – were also little treats he had to offer himself during his free time, since Sir was afraid they'd ruin his reputation as a proper man of Evil.

Then there was his blender. And the Lair's oven, certainly. Cooking required an undeniable dose of skill, especially for a fish in a robotic gorilla suit. It was challengingly _fun_to combine flavors and have Sir being his glad guinea pig to experiment recipes with. A special odor sense had been specifically added to his suit with the sole purpose of helping him in the task of cooking generous gifts of deliciousness for his favorite soon-to-be-Evil Overlord.

A third thing Minion had an undeniable inclination to consider his favorite was his sewing machine. And designing Sir's outfits, to be more precise. And the alien left his henchman a lot of room to work with – as long as the final result included the color blue and screamed villainy (and the spikes and popped collard did wonders for this part), Megamind would approve like a purring cat that just _loved_grooming. Even though the blue man was definitely the genius between the two of them, Minion was a very creative being by nature - so sketching, designing and putting together his boss' extravagant capes was highly entertaining. Not to mention challenging - gorilla suits, once again, weren't made to perform such tricky tasks.

But curiously enough, Minion's favorite objects had to be the duo's work tools. Aiding Sir in the construction of his machinery, fundamental to carry out the simplest of sinister plans, seemed to make the fish's fins flutter the most excitedly. Not because he didn't know any different – but because it made him beam the brightest at his Master's unbendable will to get up after every defeat.

Sometimes the words would slip past his lips before he could take notice.

"I'm proud of you, Sir", he would mutter, brown orbs oozing admiration.

And those fascinating spheres of an ethereal green would turn to scan the fish, glimmering in unconcealed surprise as blue lips parted for the briefest seconds until the alien smiled in smug satisfaction at his latest work.

Tender chocolate and vibrant green would meet for a few seconds, sharing sparks of a common lifetime, of an intricate fraternal bond marked by heartfelt sympathy; and it was then that Minion would flutter his fins and puff out his little chest proudly, beaming at his Master with delight.

The alien would divert his gaze towards his latest work then, that pleased little smile never leaving the thin line of his lips. And Minion would stand there, toothy grin displaying every bit of unmasked elation for the alien's work, for his accomplishment, for his ability to never give up when defeated, for his indomitable will, for _him_.

It was rewarding in more than the simple, obvious way. Well, deep down Minion knew that no matter how farfetched and incredibly brilliant his Master's plan was, it would most likely end up with scattered sheds of metal, a cloud of smoke, and a sore ache in the alien's bulbous head (sometimes a literal one).

But it also meant he would have to help the alien reconstruct everything, make him a warm cup of coffee (with inhuman doses of sugar, no less) and watch him curl up in bed before requesting that the two brainstormed until he fell asleep from exhaustion. And the next day would bring one of his favorite parts – the alien would come up with something else, something bigger, something stronger, something grander, and their eyes would meet in the same way all over again.

And the fish would take a moment to realize what he'd known for decades.

That seeing that smile of accomplishment on his Master's lips, that little glimpse of blissful ebullience in the finality of building his newest, most evil of inventions was enough to provide the greatest satisfaction in the whole wide world.

His purpose wasn't executing his Master's plans. It was nourishing that smile on the villain's lips, making it come to life and letting it play out before his eyes.


End file.
